old and new

Paxson informed me today he will be gone in less than a year. By 'gone' he means off to college. Nevertheless, hearing it made my heart squeeze just a little. For Paxson it's exciting, uncharted territory. I've no doubt he can almost taste the freedom. For me it's not real yet. I'm still wrapped in a warm, comforting blankie of denial. It feels good so I think I'll stay there awhile.

Yesterday Max and I ruthlessly yanked squash plants. It just wasn't worth it anymore to water them daily yet throw most of them out due to rot. Dante' and I are eager to start several different kinds of lettuce this fall. They will occupy the space left empty after the beans and squash were pulled.

At the community garden things are well. The tomatoes continue to ripen, the celery are quite large, and the beets are beginning to look like they might actually be growing. The carrots are long since uprooted and eaten. That space will probably grow radishes if I can lay my hands on some seeds. Sheesh! Buying seeds in town this time of year is near to impossible. The only viable source at this point is most likely the internet.

Max is loving preschool. Everyday he says the Pledge Of Allegiance to our neighbor's flag,(I wonder if they notice?) and then prays for a good school day. He is learning his letters and shapes and gets a serious kick out of singing "Grey squirrel". The "shake your bushy tail" line is simply irresistible. We've made our own playdough and this morning Max learned to string pasta onto a shoestring. It really got his attention. Max felt so important to have mastered the skill he exulted "This is so much fun, Mommy!". You know, life would grand if we could all just take a time out and push macaroni onto a shoelace. Stress levels would drop dramatically. I strung some pasta with Max and it was astoundingly therapeutic.

William, Richard, and Paxson have been just wonderful. They are all doing well in school and are a great help at home. Dante' is never very happy with school but she excels in her work. Simply put, time away from her horse is not time well spent, in her opinion.

Again, Fall is weaving it's magic. Something in the air makes me nostalgic to the point of writing these sentimental posts. Pumpkin pies are begging to be baked. The cool air needs the waft of freshly baked gingerbread. Dinners become more substantial, have fewer greens and more grains. I light good-smelling candles around the house and long to sleep under heavy blankets. Max is precious with his cherubic face beaming from under his hooded sweatshirt.

All good things.

-EJ